Finding His Wings
by Serpentseeker
Summary: ONESHOT. To cause an angel to lose their wings is a terrible crime. When Draco goes too far, Blaise finds himself helping an angel to find their wings. Slash, HarryBlaise, implied rape, character death. Read warnings.


**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and Co belong to JK Rowling. I just own this plot.  
**Title**: Finding His Wings  
**Rating**: R/M  
**Summary**: To cause an angel to lose their wings is a terrible thing. When Draco has gone to far, Blaise finds himself helping an angel find their wings. Blaise/Harry, slash, oneshot.  
**Warnings**: Terrible language, as in considered worse than the normal swears. Slash. Mention of rape.  
**Author's Notes**: This might be one of the darkest things I've written. I don't know.

**Key**: 121212 a whole other setting/scene/plot line altogether. 12321 a continuation of the last plotline but set minutes or hours later. Or the like.

121212

Blaise Zabini was not like most Slytherins. He was a self-imposed loner that everyone left alone. Theodore Nott was not left alone, as he didn't have the air that Blaise did.

But Blaise was still a Slytherin, and he listened to information he could. So that was how he found out how Draco and his gang had raped Harry Potter because he looked in Snape's Pensieve the year before. All at Snape's request. Draco had been boasting about it for half the night before Blaise had shot a _Silencio _his way.

121212

Blaise sighed. He quickly checked for teachers before scurrying up the stairway.

It had been one of those nights; Draco had been boasting over everything he'd done. While Draco was engrossed in telling his tale, Blaise had slipped out and headed for the Astronomy Tower. Fresh air helped him think.

But to his surprise, when he sidled into the Tower, it was not deserted as it usually was.

Harry Potter stood in one of the large windows. His hands were clenched tightly on the window edges and he was staring down at the ground.

For a moment Blaise considered moving forward and yanking Potter away from the window. However, he changed his mind. If anyone deserved to commit suicide, it was Potter and Blaise wasn't going to take that from him.

Blaise thought Potter was oblivious to his surroundings, but apparently he wasn't.

"I won't jump."

The words were softly spoken and muffled but Blaise heard them as clear as daylight.

"Why not?" he asked just as softly.

Potter turned and jumped down. His eyes were as soft as his words, Blaise saw. He smiled slightly but didn't speak.

"You of all people would commit suicide," Blaise persisted. He had no idea why Potter wasn't hexing him - he was a Slytherin, after all - but he was glad for it.

Potter smiled slightly.

"I won't jump. Not yet," was all he said. Blaise almost snarled - Potter was not cryptic! He was out there and loud and wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face. Damn it!

"Oh?" Blaise inquired, smoothly raising an eyebrow. He was bothered, but he wasn't about to let Potter see that.

Potter moved forward, his robes rustling slightly. He stopped near Blaise and raised his hand, touching Blaise's cheek slightly.

"I don't have any wings," he replied quietly. Then he slipped past Blaise and disappeared down the stairs.

Blaise took a ragged breath, his cheek burning even though Potter's hand had been freezing. For a moment he stood there, remembering the touch and the look in Potter's eyes. He vaguely understood Potter's words but he wasn't satisfied. He wanted more answers, but it didn't look like he was going to get them anytime soon.

Slowly he moved to the window where Potter had been standing. Slowly he moved his hands and gripped the edge. Then he mustered his courage and looked down. It was a long way.

"I'll help you find your wings, fallen angel."

12121212

"Potter!"

With ease, Blaise slipped through the crowd to Potter, who was alone. That wasn't the safest thing, walking alone, but everyone had drawn away, not knowing how to treat him. Even the Weasel and the Beaver had drawn away.

Potter obediently stood still and waited for the other boy to catch up. The halls were crowded, full of students walking to lunch.

They walked towards the Great Hall together, one trying to get the courage to say what he wanted to, the other curious as to what his companion wanted.

Blaise caught Potter's sleeve just as they reached the Great Hall. He pulled him aside and waited for the crowd of students to enter the hall.

"You know, if - if you want to get revenge on them, I'll - I'll help you," he stuttered, inwardly cursing himself. This was Potter!

Potter stared at him for a moment.

"Thank you," he said simply. And then he stepped past Blaise and walked into the Great Hall.

12121212

Potter was an enigma, Blaise decided.

Binns was droning on about some goblin war but Blaise wasn't listening. He'd steal the notes off someone who actually cared later. Absently he twirled his quill and gazed around the glass.

Draco and was whispering to Crabbe and Goyle about something, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes bright with eagerness. It was a sickening sight. Granger was sitting straight in her seat, watching Binns with attentive eyes while the Weasel was engrossed in - from what Blaise could see - Hangman with Finnegan and Thomas. And Potter - where was Potter? Ah, there he was. Sitting at the back, frantically scribbling notes.

With one last glance at Binns, he concluded the ghost wouldn't notice if someone died in his class. Still, he found himself discretely slipping out of his seat and sidling to the back, grabbing his bag on the way. Perhaps he was too discrete, Blaise mused, as he watched Potter's non-existent reaction.

"Hey," he hissed.

Potter jerked, his elbow knocking the inkwell. It teetered for a moment before falling on its side, the contents spilling out all over the desk and Potter's notes.

"Fuck," Potter spat but it was quiet.

The fact that Potter had just sworn failed to register for a few long moments. Then there were a few more long moments while Blaise stared open-mouthed. This didn't seem to get noticed by the other boy, as he was staring at his ruined notes in dismay.

Finally Blaise regained his composure. He felt a tinge of regret, but, really, it wasn't entirely his fault. Potter shouldn't have had the ink so close to his work.

All of a sudden, Blaise had a brilliant idea. Smirking slightly, he pulled out his wand.

"How about a deal?" he asked. "I fix your notes and you lend them to me."

For a moment Potter merely stared. Then he swallowed.

"Do it."

12321

"Zabini!"

Curious as to who was calling him, Blaise stopped and moved out of the flow of students. A few moments later Potter jogged up, cheeks flushed and glasses crooked. So Potter had been running to catch up, Blaise thought idly. However, he was snapped out of his thoughts when Potter shoved a bundle of parchment in his hands.

"Return them to me when you're done. Preferably before the assignment is due, I don't want to get in trouble because you were stupid enough to not take notes." And Potter scowled at him as though he had already gotten in trouble because of Blaise. This seemed to remind him of the state of his glasses and frowning, Potter reached up to fix them.

"Actually, letting someone else do the note-taking and getting a better mark than said person sounds pretty smart to me," Blaise drawled. Smirking, he leant casually against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. The notes were still clutched tightly.

Apparently unable to think of response, Potter merely scowled.

"Just - oh, never mind," he huffed before stalking into the Great Hall, back tensed in anger.

Blaise coolly watched him go. Then he turned his gaze to the parchment in his hands.

If it weren't for these, it would have been normal. He would be just another spiteful Slytherin, getting Potter fired up and watching as the Golden Boy just got even more infuriated by the cool response. But these changed everything. This bunch of parchment was symbolic of a fragile bridge of trust. Blaise had trusted Potter to hold up his end of the deal, while Potter trusted Blaise not to deliberately not return his notes or even wreck them beyond repair.

Trust is a heavy burden, Blaise decided.

12121212

The letter came one ordinary morning. As soon as he spotted the owl soaring towards him, Blaise felt a strange sense of foreboding. So he collected his letter and high-tailed it out of there.

_My dear son,_

_I have been in an unfortunate accident. Potions experimentation - except I got careless and added two Potions that have ingredients that shouldn't be mixed. It blew up, right in my face. Something I should have foreseen - but no matter. _

_My assistant was able to send for help and now I have been told I have only one more week in here._

_Your Headmaster has granted you permission to visit me. After much cajoling, I also convinced him to allow you to bring a classmate along. You never invite your friends over, Blaisey, and I would dearly like to meet one._

_Your visit is set for two days from now._

_Love, Mama._

Damn it!

This was the third time he had gotten a letter like this, informing him his mother had got herself in an unfortunate accident. And she was his only parent - Father Dearest had walked out before Blaise was born. What would happen to him if he lost her? He hoped he would never find out.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he was jerked out of his depressing thoughts. Startled brown eyes flicked up to meet a pair of brilliant jade ones.

"Potter," Blaise sighed.

Well, one less cause for alarm. Now, about the other.

Definitely not a Gryffindor. Or a Hufflepuff. None of the Ravenclaws trusted the Slytherins - no wonder they were seen as wise. So that left the Slytherins and not many at that. Theodore was his best bet, and Blaise didn't particularly want to take the outcast.

Suddenly he was hit by an excellent plan.

"Hey, Potter. We're going visiting."

12121212

Another sleepless night, another trip to the Astronomy Tower.

And Blaise could honestly say he wasn't surprised to find Potter in the same position he was in so many nights ago.

And he wasn't surprised when Potter began to talk without showing any sign of noticing Blaise's presence.

"I don't really care that I'm an orphan."

That was news. If Potter wasn't angsting over how the world was out to get him, he was whining about being an orphan.

"Not any more."

Ah.

"I have it pretty good, really. Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom had to watch their parents being tortured before they were killed, and if you tell anyone, I will see to it you won't be able to talk any longer."

So the lion was developing his bite.

"And I don't have to think of happy memories with my parents and be all depressed because I'll never have them again."

"They say it's better to have loved and lost than never love at all," Blaise quoted, eyebrows quirked. He waited eagerly for an answer.

"And have 'they' lost someone they loved?" Potter inquired smoothly in return.

"Not commonly, no," Blaise replied. He smiled; Potter was good for conversation.

Unfortunately Potter seemed to have said all he had to say because there was no sound from him. Frantically Blaise searched his mind for a topic.

"What did you think of my Mam-Mother?" he queried.

"Nice," Potter said smoothly. "But why was she so worried about your safety? I mean, you are her son and all, but she seemed a bit..."

"Overprotective?" Blaise suggested. "Potter, that's what mothers are like. Surely the mother figure in your life has proven that?"

"I don't really have a mother figure," Potter replied musingly. "I mean, Mrs Wesley is nice, but she hasn't really got time to be overprotective, not when I drag her own biological son into danger. And - in case you were wondering - I live with my relatives and they would be happy if I got myself killed, quite frankly."

"So why are you trying to kill yourself is it will make them happy?" Blaise asked curiously.

"I've made a Will," Potter began. "In it, I've stated they'll get a large sum of money if they pass an inspection from the Department of Child Welfare in the Ministry. Only a blind man couldn't see the way I was raised."

"Nice," Blaise said off-handedly.

And there was silence.

"Have you found your wings yet?"

Without a word Potter turned and jumped down. He glided across the floor until he was just inches from Blaise. And just like before, he pressed his hand to Blaise's cheek, eyes watching said boy curiously.

"Why do you touch me?" Blaise asked.

"Because I want to," Potter replied simply.

"And I want to murder lots of people, but you don't see them dead."

Potter grinned, a brief flash of amusement. Then it was gone and the light of curiousity had returned to his eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Before he could stop himself, Blaise shook his head. Potter chuckled.

"Well, that's settled." And he disappeared.

121212

Potter was...fussy when it came to touch.

Well, perhaps fussy wasn't the best word, but it was all he could think of that came close.

Potter didn't like people touching him. Whenever someone touched him, he flinched away as though burned, and afterwards, Blaise caught him absently digging his nails into the soft flesh of his arms.

Yet, whenever they met up on the Astronomy Tower - all right, it had only happened twice - Potter had touched him freely. Plus, there was the hand on the shoulder when Blaise received the letter from his mother.

Mysteries bothered Blaise. He liked having the answer. So intrigued by the mystery Potter had presented, he spent his entire Friday afternoon off, lying on his bed with the hangings drawn and pondering. At last he reached a conclusion.

Rape had taken away Potter's control. They had over-powered him, forcing him to do things he didn't want to do (and Blaise didn't want to hear, but had to listen to Draco boast about). Lack of control was his fear, and he couldn't control touching him. So he regained control by touching people.

That mystery solved, Blaise went to dinner feeling quite cheerful.

121212

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Disbelievingly, Blaise stared, the same word tumbling out of his mouth like a mantra.

"Fuck off," Potter croaked, glaring up at Blaise. His glasses were missing, Blaise noticed. He caught sight of them a few feet away.

Blaise swallowed but didn't move. He stared down at the pathetic figure on the floor, clothed in only a torn cloak which was clutched tightly, so tightly the knuckles were white.

"They - they did it again? Malfoy - and..."

"Yes!" Potter snapped. "Fuck off!"

But Blaise didn't move. He closed the bathroom door behind him and for good measure, cast a strong Locking Charm. Then he moved forward and crouched in front of Potter. Potter watched him with suspicious, eyes that followed every movement Blaise made, even though it must have been terribly blurry.

"Why?"

"How the hell would I know?! What, you think I would ask when they're trying to - trying to -"

Wisely Blaise didn't follow that up.

"Do you want me to get the nurse?"

"No!"

Both looked surprised at the outburst.

"Is - is there anything I can do?"

Potter considered that for a moment.

"Lend me your robes, repair my cloak, find my glasses and get my wand back off Malfoy is a good place to start."

Without hesitation, Blaise stood and pulled his robes off over his head, revealing the black trousers and white shirt underneath. He handed them to Potter and obediently turned around.

It was strange, knowing Potter was changing just behind him. A few rustles was all he heard and it was hard to resist the temptation to turn around. Not for any perverted reasons - just simple curiousity. There weren't many people who liked not putting a vision to the sound. Blaise certainly didn't.

"Done."

Obediently he accepted the torn cloak and quietly fixed it. When he handed it over, Potter took it without a word and swirled it around his shoulders, tying the silver fastening. The glasses were quickly retrieved.

There was a moment of hesitation before Potter put his glasses on. It was weird seeing him without them. His face seemed very empty, as though missing something. Not unusual, Blaise thought, seeing as he always wears them.

"Will you get my wand?"

"I'll go now."

Potter nodded seemingly satisfied. And like all their other meetings, Potter disappeared out the room first.

12321

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Blaise hissed venomously.

Draco looked at him, a lazy look in his silver eyes, like a large cat after eating a large meal. He sprawled over his bed and folded pale arms behind his head.

"He was good, Blaise, I just couldn't resist."

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Why?"

"If they find out that it was you that did it both times -"

"Relax. They won't.

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm a Slytherin," Draco replied as though it should have been obvious.

"What the fuck has that got to do with it? And you aren't a Slytherin. Slytherins are cunning. They stick to the shadows and most of all, they can keep their cock in their own fucking pants!" Blaise ended with a hiss.

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously and he sat up quickly. Then he stood, reaching for his wand.

Without taking his eyes off the other boy, Blaise also stood and drew his wand. In the background Crabbe, Goyle and Theodore hovered, looking between the two nervously.

"Seriously though, Potter is a good lay. So tight and the sound he makes, pleading and -"

Blaise saw red.

For a moment he heard nothing but the blood pounding in his ears. Then he opened his mouth and screamed the most painful curse he knew.

"CRUCIO!"

12321

That night Blaise lay awake, staring at the canopy of his bed. Behind the closed green hangings he heard Draco cursing him and the grunts of his cronies as they agreed. Absently he moved his hand and touched the smooth wood of his wand. His fingers curled around the handle, and he brought it up so it was in his line of vision.

The sensation he'd felt cursing Draco was unlike nothing he'd felt before. He had tried the Unforgiveables before - mostly on bugs he found in his room. But cursing Draco - the feeling was intoxicating and when Crabbe and Goyle he wrestled him away, the only thing he had felt was anger for being interrupted.

"But why was I so angry?" Blaise whispered, barely audible. The wand in his grasp twirled and let loose a few silver sparks.

The way Draco had been talking about Potter had infuriated him. Potter wasn't that bad really, once you got past the rashness and short temper. Blaise had - in fact he had begun to wonder if they were just a front, to keep people of his back. Even though Potter had been rather prejudiced, nobody deserved to have that done to them.

Twice.

Blaise felt the anger well up in him again, so he closed his eyes and remembered Draco writhing, and afterwards, while he had been restrained by Crabbe and Goyle, the complete disarray Malfoy had been - hair hanging every, gasping in pain, eyes shocked.

And then he thought of Potter. That brought thoughts of calm green eyes, soft smiles and gentle touches. He could practically feel Potter's palm against his cheek, warming the cold flesh and -

Fuck.

He had a crush on Harry - bloody - Potter.

12121212

When he wandered up to the Astronomy Tower, Blaise had the sinking feeling it wouldn't end well.

Sure enough, Potter was half hanging out the window.

"Are you going to jump?" Blaise found himself asking softly.

Slowly Potter turned and jumped down. Just as calmly he began to make his way towards Blaise.

"I want to," he said softly. His eyes weren't soft; they were confused and wild. "But I don't have my wings."

This took some consideration and for awhile Blaise was silent, considering his next move. He had to be careful - he was verging on No-Man's Land here.

"What will it take to get them?"

A flash of startled green eyes and white teeth nibbling on the bottom lip.

"I don't know."

Blaise nodded smoothly. And then he took a step closer. Potter tensed but didn't flee.

Feeling much like he was dealing with a traumatized animal, Blaise moved his hand up until it hovered inches from a pale cheek. To his surprise Potter smirked and turned his head slightly. His eyes fluttered shut and he let Blaise support the weight of his head.

This was further than he thought Potter would allow and it threw Blaise off. However, he soldiered on.

Gradually he eased his way closer to Potter until there was barely and inch between them. But Potter still didn't open his eyes, instead choosing to shock Blaise further and move until they were flush against each other. Carefully Blaise dropped his arms and locked hands at the small of Potter's back.

Without hesitation, Potter tilted his face up towards him and Blaise slipped his glasses off. It was such a strong sign of trust, Potter allowing him to take the thing that stopped him from being essentially blind. It made him feel the same way he'd felt when Potter leant him his notes.

And then Potter kissed him and all such thoughts flew out of his head.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were panting and flushed.

"I found my wings," Potter whispered. There was note of wonderment in his voice.

Blaise brought his hand up and tenderly caressed the flushed cheek. "Are you going to fly?"

Potter gazed at him, sadness and joy all too plain in his now-unguarded eyes. Like many times before, he touched Blaise's cheek.

"Yes." Then he cocked his head sideways, like a curious bird. "Will you fly with me?"

He didn't even have to stop and think.

"Yes."

A brilliant smile lit up Potter's face and eliminated most of Blaise's nervousness about what they were about to do.

Somehow Potter found and hand and linked fingers with him, tugging Blaise over to the window. They climbed up together and stood there for a moment, hands still tightly clasped. Blaise looked down at the ground for a moment, and then glanced at Potter. The other boy had lifted his gaze to the sky. The last thing they would remember.

"I'm going to die a virgin. Lovely," Blaise huffed.

Potter glanced at briefly before an amused smile twisted his lips. There was no option to do but smile back.

They were still smiling at each other as they shuffled to the edge. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaise caught a glimpse of a black blanket dotted with silver. It would be there only witness.

And then they were flying.

121212

Finally, it's complete! Writing this took about two weeks and it's nice to complete something.

**Extra bit:**

As they sped to the ground, Blaise found himself relaxed. He closed his eyes to protect them from the biting wind and tightened his grip on Potter's hand. It was strange falling; just the endless sensation of suspension and the peculiar feeling in his stomach. It was worth waiting for, he mused. And Potter had earned it.

He opened his eyes just in time to see something dark and solid rushing up at them. And then the world exploded in white light and he knew no more.


End file.
